


Never looked

by panamdea



Series: Waiting for you sadness [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole, Star Wars Legends: X-wing Series - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-05 08:43:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6697858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panamdea/pseuds/panamdea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Mirax, what’s going on?” Corran had tried to sound reasonable as he repeated himself, but not very hard because it was the middle of the night and he’d been hauled out of bed so his wife could hug a drunk.</em> </p><p>After the Rogues return from the Battle of Ciutric Wes needs to talk to Mirax. Corran is not entirely helpful. Set shortly after the end of <em>Isard's Revenge</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never looked

**Author's Note:**

> A follow up to [_Sorrow you can hold_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4282365).
> 
> ~~~~~
> 
> Throw me a line,  
> 'Cause I'm not so tough.  
> Laughing inside I can shrug it off.  
> Do we see more from the other side?  
> From a distant shore?  
> Tell me we can make it out alive.  
> Do I realise it's tearing you up inside?  
> Pushing too hard,  
> I never looked into your eyes.  
> How can I offer a solution,  
> When it's tearing me up inside?  
>  _\- Tell Me, South_
> 
> ~~~~~

“And tomorrow, husband mine, we’re going to have a long talk about your trust issues.” 

Mirax’s last words to Corran echoed sourly through his mind as he guided his speeder towards Gavin’s apartment. 

Corran and Mirax had been asleep for hours when their apartment’s door buzzer had announced a visitor. Without any sense of danger to pull him properly into consciousness it had only been Mirax kicking him sleepily in the shins that had made Corran roll out of bed and make his yawning way to the door to investigate. 

As the door opened Wes Janson had practically fallen into the apartment. Surprised, Corran had caught his friend and helped him back upright before he’d realised Wes was drunk. Drunk, bruised and with a gash across his forehead, so it didn’t take a CorSec-trained deductive genius to work out that Wes had got himself into yet another bar fight. And then, for some reason best known to himself, decided that Corran and Mirax's apartment was the next stop on his itinerary. 

Then he’d spoken and Corran had felt a deeper surprise run through him.

“I need to see Mirax.” The words had been mumbled, but there’d been no mistaking them.

Corran had decided they needed clarification anyway. “What?”

“Mirax. I need to see her.”

“Why do you need to see my wife?” Corran had stressed the last couple of words just slightly.

“Please, Corran.” Speaking coherently was apparently too difficult because Wes had trailed off and looked pleadingly at Corran who had sighed and let him inside. More baffled than anything Corran had left him standing in the main room and gone to fetch Mirax.

“Who was it?” Mirax’s voice was sleepy.

“It’s Wes. He says he needs to see you.” Mirax had let out a startled exclamation and rolled out of the bed. “Mirax, what’s going on?” But she’d ignored him as she wrapped a robe around herself and hurried out to the main room where Wes was standing, swaying slightly. 

Corran had half expected his wife to give the man an earful and push him out of the front door, but instead, Mirax had touched Janson's face, examined the cut and bruises in concern, called him sweetheart and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. That was the point at which Corran had retreated to the kitchen and watched in bemusement as Wes’ arms slowly went round Mirax in return. Not hugging her, Corran had realised, but clinging to her.

A very drunk Wes Janson was clinging to Corran’s wife in his own apartment at some obscene hour of the night and Corran was pretty sure that sort of thing wasn’t supposed to be ok. Bemusement gave way to irritation.

Then, Mirax had spotted him staring and rolled her eyes. She’d murmured something to Wes, pushed him gently down onto the couch and come into the kitchen.

“Mirax, what’s going on?” Corran had tried to sound reasonable as he repeated himself, but not very hard because it was the middle of the night and he’d been hauled out of bed so his wife could hug a drunk.

“Look, Corran,” Mirax had sighed as she pulled their first aid kit from a cabinet, “I think it would be best if you left. Go stay with Gavin or something.”

“And leave you alone with him?” From the flat stare he’d got in response to that question he’d immediately known he’d said the wrong thing. “I mean…”

“Just what do you think will happen?” Mirax’s voice had been icy.

“Well… nothing, but…” He’d done his best not to quail under Mirax’s stare. He’d almost succeeded.

“But?”

“But it’s _Wes_.” Corran had said, hoping she’d understand that he meant, ‘while of course I trust you implicitly, Wes has a well deserved reputation and I’m not really 100% sure I trust him not to do something stupid if he’s been drinking, which he clearly has’.

“Yes, it’s Wes. And I’m not going to abandon him while he needs a friend. You should understand, Corran. You know what he went through at Distna. Afterwards.”

“But…”

“But _what_?”

“But… but it's _Wes_.” Corran had protested, and this time he’d meant, ‘yes, but it's Wes, who’s pretty shallow really, and he's seemed fine and remember that well deserved reputation so are you absolutely sure he’s not just trying to get you into bed?’ But he’d known it was ridiculous and unfair and he’d felt ashamed of himself even as he’d thought it. Because he knew that drunk or not Wes wouldn’t go after someone he knew wasn’t interested in him. And regardless of anyone else's intentions, Corran _did_ trust Mirax implicitly. He was just… peeved.

“Exactly!” Mirrax had declared and Corran had had no trouble recognising _that_ not as agreement but as meaning ‘you’re an insensitive idiot’. “He’s your friend. So get over it, go to Gavin’s and don’t come back until I call you.” 

And with that, without even the chance to pack an overnight bag, Corran had found himself being pushed out of his own apartment with a last withering parting comment about his trust issues. His last view of his wife as the door shut was of her draping her arm across Janson’s shoulders as she sat down next to him on the couch.

In that moment, Corran had seen the lost look on Janson’s face and understood properly that he wasn't just drunk and randomly looking up friends in the middle of the night. He was genuinely hurting and Mirax, for whatever reason, was the person he'd turned to.

With a twinge of guilt Corran realised there were probably reasons Wes wouldn’t have come to him. He thought he'd helped Gavin, but Wes– Well Wes was not Gavin. And Wes hadn't seemed to need, or want, help. Until now. But why hadn't he gone to Wedge or Hobbie, or even Myn? Why Mirax?

He sighed as he pulled up at Gavin’s. So maybe he had some (entirely natural in an ex-detective) minor suspicion issues. These were probably not going away any time soon but maybe they needed some reigning in. But he did seem to have some seeing-the-apparently-obviously-wrong-with-his-friends issues. He'd have to work on those.


End file.
